


A Study in Seasons

by President Romana (asoldandtrueasthesky)



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 15:19:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13102980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asoldandtrueasthesky/pseuds/President%20Romana
Summary: The Doctor decides they need a break from this Key to Time business. Romana’s not convinced.





	A Study in Seasons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citizen-of-the-multiverse (threenimonsongallifrey)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threenimonsongallifrey/gifts).



“Doctor, we need to look for the Key to Time.”

The Doctor gave Romana a terribly wounded look. “But it’s Christmas!”

“It was June three seconds ago.” Said Romana, entirely logically.

“It’s Christmas _now_.”

Romana sighed, finally stepping out of the TARDIS. With her white cloak she was, at least, dressed for the weather, “Did you take us here on purpose?”

“No!” said the Doctor, sounding terribly offended. “Of course not! Why would I do that?”

She frowned, spinning around with the tracer in her hand. There was no near-magnetic pull, no direction it wanted to go in. “Well, the tracer’s not picking anything up.”

“Maybe you’re not using it right.” He huffed.

Romana raised an eyebrow, before poking the Doctor with the tracer with a considering hum, as if she was listening to its telepathic feedback. “The tracer says you’re sadly suffering from a subtransitory experiential hypertoid induced condition, aggravated by multi-encephalogical tensions.”

“No, it doesn’t! It doesn’t, does it K-9?”

“You can’t use your robot dog to win arguments, Doctor.” Romana knelt down, patting said dog’s head. “Besides, he agrees with me, don’t you, K-9?”

“Master does often display symptoms of a massive compensation syndrome.”

“Pah! You can’t use robot dogs to win your arguments, Romana.” The Doctor shook his head. “Who listens to dogs, anyway?”

“You do.” She pointed out.

Predictably, he ignored her, and started gathering snow in his hands instead. “A white Christmas, Romana! Snow! You must appreciate that! It goes with your style.”

Romana ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding being hit by the snow he’d suddenly thrown at her, and said primly, “I don’t appreciate being assaulted.”

“It’s a snowball! It’s a sign of friendship.”  

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t have friends.”

“And I was going to get you a present.”

Romana shrugged, not terribly hurt, but let the Doctor drag her off to experience `a proper Christmas` all the same.

 

*

 

Romana wasn’t quite sure what to make of what the Doctor called a Christmas dinner. The Doctor had gotten exasperated when she’d started pointing the tracer at the food ( _“you’re supposed to eat it, Romana”),_ but they’d generally had a pleasant enough time. Now, the Doctor was introducing her to something called a Christmas cracker.

He grinned, having just won the contest of pulling the first one apart, and showed off the trinket he’d won. “A yo-yo! You always need a yo-yo, Romana, never forget that.”

“What’s the point of it?” She asked, watching him spinning the metal cylinder up and down the string.

“It’s fun.” He said, and pulled a slip of paper out of the cracker. His smile widened, though she wouldn’t have thought that possible only a second ago, and he read, with all the gravitas one might use for reciting some great play or poem, “What do you call a penguin in the Sahara desert?”

“What’s a penguin?”

“Lost.”

Romana paused, looking at the Doctor like he’d gone mad. Or at least, madder than he usually was. “Is that meant to be funny?”  

“It does, I suppose, rely on its audience knowing what a penguin _is_.” He sighed. “What’s the point in telling a bad joke if no one will groan?” He tucked the yo-yo into one of his many pockets and pulled out something purple and thin which, when unfolded, turned out be a crown.

“They’re traditional wear?” Romana asked, since she’d seen quite a few people in the street in odd hats. “Like our hats and headdresses?”

“Oh, yes,” said the Doctor, eagerly putting on his paper crown, “all the Earth politicians wear them.”

He offered her another cracker to pull and this time, it split in her favour. She ignored the joke and the trinket but after a moment of consideration, placed the golden crown on her head. “You’re sure these are what the Earth aristocracy wear? They don’t seem very practical.”  

“As opposed to Gallifreyan ones.” He muttered, before a wild grin transformed his face. He had the sort of smile that was often startling, she thought. “Oh yes, Romana, you look just like a Queen.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” She said, dryly, not much caring whether it was sarcasm or not.

 

*

 

Romana looked up, relieved that the Doctor had returned.  “Oh, good, can we go back to the TARDIS now? While I’ll admit this log fire is wonderfully atmospheric, it’s rather boring.”

“But I haven’t finished showing you Earth’s yuletide traditions yet! The White Guardian can wait.”

“Well, alright. I suppose it’s educational.”

“Educational?!” He boomed. “Please, Romana, never accuse me of anything of the sort again.”

She sighed. “Yes, yes, do get on with it, Doctor.”  

He handed her something large and soft, its contents hidden by patterned paper- the creatures that adorned the paper were coloured rather like CIA agents. She prodded it with the tracer, just in case.

“You’re meant to open it.” He stage-whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you what you always wanted, but they were all out of all-powerful Universe altering artefacts.”

“Exactly, what’s the point? Anything you could get, I could get myself.”

“What’s the point?” The Doctor asked, horrified. “ _What’s the point?_ The point is, well, I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s quite lovely.”

She started to tear off the wrapping paper, frowning. “I still don’t have one for you, you know.”

“Then you’re getting a good deal out of it, aren’t you?”

She raised an eyebrow. The gift was essentially his coat, scarf, and hat, but in her size. “How very egoistical.”

“Well, I was starting to worry you were colour-blind, you know, only able to see things in the white and red spectrum. I thought I ought to lend a hand.”

“Because, naturally, everyone should emulate your style.”

“Exactly!” he beamed.

To humour him, she put the coat and scarf on- they were, at least, weather appropriate, and inspected herself. “Perhaps in another colour…” she allowed. She transferred the things she’d been keeping in her cloak to her new pockets, and the Doctor seized on a gift box she had.

“You did get me something! Oh, Romana, you shouldn’t have.”

She ignored him, putting it in her pocket. “I didn’t. It’s for K-9, I got him a new collar.”

He pouted. “K-9 gets a present and not me? He can’t have gotten you anything. He can’t wrap presents!”

“K-9 agrees with me.” She shrugged. “Besides, what would I have got you from the pet store? I didn’t think you’d appreciate bird food.

“I might have. For all you know, I have a bird! In fact, I _think_ I have a parrot somewhere.”

Romana gave him a sceptical look. “A very neglected one, if you’re relying on seasonal presents to feed it. Can we leave _now_ , Doctor?”

“Well, alright.” He said, having apparently ran out of customs that he considered fun enough. “Back to the tedium of saving the Universe.”

“Isn’t that what you claim to be doing most of the time?”

“Yes, but it’s no fun when someone’s _told_ you to do it.” He said, as Romana put on her new hat and began to follow him out.

She shook her head. “You’re childishly stubborn.”

“Romana,” he said, and nodded to the ceiling, where some sort of spiky plant hung.

She pointed the tracer at it, listening to its hum, before shaking her head again. “Nope. That’s not it either.” He didn’t follow her through the door immediately, so she poked her head back in, impatient. “What, was there something else you wanted, Doctor?”

“Of course not.” He finished wrapping his scarf around himself and followed her out. After all, he supposed, not _every_ human custom could be emulated.


End file.
